Truth
by allthingsdecent
Summary: The gang plays a game of Truth or Dare. If you like I Never, you'll like this. (Warning: More mild Cameron mocking ahead.)
1. Chapter 1

**Note from moi. This is basically exactly like my fic I Never, except with Truth or Dare in place of the slightly more obscure (and frankly complicated) game of I Never. **

**Yeah, I know, I know. . . the Truth or Dare fic is (I assume) the oldest fan fic cliché in the book. But hey, I did a sex in the elevator fic. Literally **_**nothing**_** is beneath me. Besides, it's fun! That's what it's all about, amirite?**

**This could work as a standalone fic, but it's actually the first chapter of a 2-parter, mostly because I had an idea for another fic and this one could work as a handy lead-in. Anyway, hope I wrote it at least well enough that you could suspend your disbelief enough to enjoy. xo, atd**

House and Thirteen were in his office, looking over a patient file when Cuddy came storming in. Without waiting for a break in the conversation she yelled at him:

"Your budget report is three weeks late!"

House looked at her.

"My dog ate it," he said.

"You don't have a dog," she said, folding her arms.

"My goldfish ate it?"

She glared at him.

"You don't have a goldfish."

House patted the pockets of his pants.

"It must be in my other pants. My budget pants."

"You'll be wearing your overnight-shift-in-the-clinic pants if I don't have it on my desk by the end of the week," Cuddy said. And she strode out of the office officiously.

Both Thirteen and House tilted their heads to get a better view of her ass as she left.

"What a woman," Thirteen said, admiringly.

"If you like that sort of thing," House said.

He went back to the patient file.

"Do you think she might be a lesbian?" Thirteen mused.

House almost dropped the scan he was holding.

"_Cuddy_?"

"Why not? Powerful woman. Ball buster. No boyfriend that I know of."

"I have it on pretty good authority that she's not gay," House said.

Thirteen squinted at him.

"You fucked her didn't you? I've always thought there was something between you two."

"First of all, even if I had 'fucked her,' as you so eloquently put it, it would be none of your business. And second of all, no," he lied. "I have not had sexual relations with that woman."

"But you want to."

"Not as much as you, apparently," House said, with a gleam in his eye.

"She's sexy as hell."

"I do admire how sexidextrous you are," House said, smirking at her.

"How we going to find out if Dr. Cuddy is equally . . . flexible?"

"I have no idea. But if the answer is yes, I'll need proof. Preferably in video form. Maybe some sort of oil could be involved."

Thirteen smiled.

"So help a sister out, will you?"

"How am I supposed to help you out?"

"Bring Dr. Cuddy to my party this weekend."

"That assumes two things: One, that I was planning on attending your party this weekend. And two, that Dr. Cuddy would go with me."

"Actually I assumed you weren't going. But I've clearly piqued your interest."

"My interested is definitely _one_ of the things that is piqued."

"As for getting Dr. Cuddy to go with you, you're a smart guy, House. You'll figure something out."

"What's in for me?"

"The prospect of me and Dr. Cuddy getting naked together with a video camera in the room is not enough incentive for you?"

House raised his eyebrows at her.

"What time did the party start again?"

Thirteen smiled.

"8 o clock," she said.

#####

"My team thinks you're mean," House said to Cuddy later, over lunch.

"That's because I am mean," Cuddy said.

"They think you're a killjoy."

"That's because I am a killjoy."

"They think you're boring."

Cuddy, who was about to bite on a carrot stick, stopped, mid-crunch. She kept it, poised, in her mouth.

"I am not boring!" she said, defensively.

"That's what I said. Definitely not boring. But they're convinced. Also, Kutner asked me how old you were and he was surprised to find out that you're only 38."

"I look young for my age!" Cuddy said.

"His exact quote: She looks 30. But acts 50. . . _Fifty_!"

"If they got to know me better, they'd find out that I'm actually a lot of fun," Cuddy sniffed.

This was going to be even easier than he thought.

"You have a chance to prove it, Friday night."

"What's Friday night?"

"Thirteen is having a little shindig at her place. Informal. Just the team, plus Chase, Cameron, Wilson and his enormous shadow with boobs—Cutthroat Bitch. She asked me to invite you."

"_You're_ going to an office party," Cuddy said, skeptically.

"Dying to see Thirteen's Bitchin Bisexual Abode."

"Thirteen is bisexual?"

"Duh," House said.

"Wow. Missed that completely."

"So you'll go to the party?"

"I don't know. . .I probably shouldn't fraternize with my employees."

"That's what Kutner said you'd say."

She rested her chin in her hand, looked at him.

"What time does it start?"

######

Somehow, House knew he was in for a memorable evening the minute he saw what Cuddy was wearing: A fuzzy pink sweater and a pair of tight jeans—he hadn't seen her dress that way since college.

House walked right up to her.

"Pretty in pink I see," he said.

"Too 80s?" she said, wrinkling her nose.

"No, it's cute. Very Molly Ringwald."

She sighed.

"God, maybe Kutner was right. I feel completely out of place at this party."

"The key is drinking heavily," House said, handing her a glass of spiked punch. "Very very heavily."

"Yeah?"

"That's what I always do."

"Cheers to that," she said, taking the plastic cup from him and clinking it soundlessly against his. She took a large gulp, then made a face.

"Yikes! It's strong!" she said.

"It's what the kids are drinking these days. Unless you can't handle it?"

"I can handle it," she said. Then, nervously, she said: "I should probably mingle, huh? That was the point of this little exercise."

"Go forth and schmooze," he said, watching her with a smile.

Thirteen passed her, on her way to the bar.

"Love the sweater, Dr. Cuddy," she said, practically leering.

Cuddy looked down.

"Thanks. . . and call me Lisa. And thanks for inviting me to this. It's not often I get to socialize with my staff. It's. . . fun."

"Hopefully, the fun's just getting started," Thirteen said, with a dirty grin.

Cuddy gave her a curious look and kept walking.

House walked up to Thirteen.

"How's Operation 'Does Cuddy Swing Both Ways? going?" he asked. "Has she promised to spread her legs for you yet?"

"You make sure she's good and tipsy. I'll take care of the rest."

"I'm on it," House said. "That punch I gave her? I added extra rum."

Turned out, Thirteen's strategy for getting the truth out of Cuddy was a time-honored one.

At about 10:30, once everyone was fairly well lubricated—a joint had also been passed around, which Cuddy took a few tiny tokes off of—she announced they would all play a game.

"What kind of game?" Taub said.

"A dangerous one," Thirteen said, raising her eyebrows.

"I love danger," Kutner said. "Count me in."

"First, a show of hands: Who else is in?" Thirteen said.

House's hand shot up. Then, quickly, to prove how ballsy she was, Amber's hand shot up too. Wilson shrugged, and raised his hand sheepishly. Obviously, any game that House was playing, Cameron wanted in on, too. She raised her hand. Chase followed suit. Not to feel left out, Taub raised his hand. (Foreman had drawn the short straw at work and was back at the hospital, tending to the patient.)

Now the only person who hadn't raised her hand was Cuddy.

Everyone looked at her.

She eyed House, who was smirking in a "you'll never do it" sort of way.

Defiantly, she raised her hand.

"Excellent," Thirteen said. "Gather round my lovelies."

They all sat around the coffee table, some on the couch, some on the chairs, some on oversized throw pillows Thirteen had placed on the floor.

"This game is called Truth or Dare."

"No way," Cuddy said, starting to stand up. House grabbed her arm and literally dragged her back down to the throw pillow next to him.

"Uh uh uh, Cuddy. You pinkie swore."

They glared at each other.

"It's actually a modified version of the game," Thirteen continued. "Spin the bottle meets Truth or Dare. We take this bottle"— she held up an empty beer bottle triumphantly—"and we spin it. Wherever it lands, they have to answer a truth or a dare."

"I have a bad feeling about this," Wilson said.

Thirteen grabbed the bottle, spun first.

It landed on House.

"Alright House. Let's show them how it's done. Truth or dare?"

"Let's ease into this," House said. "Truth."

"Have you ever slept with any of your fellows?"

"That would be no," House said, definitively. "Sorry to disappoint."

"How dull," Thirteen said, feigning a yawn.

House spun the bottle. It landed on Cuddy.

"Great," Cuddy muttered.

"Truth or dare, Dr. Cuddy? As if I even have to ask. "

"Dare," Cuddy said slyly.

House smiled. Again, it was too easy.

"I dare you to give Thirteen a real kiss."

Cuddy shot him a look.

"_Really_?" she said, ironically.

"You said dare. To a guy. What did you think I was going to ask you to do: sing the National Anthem?"

Cuddy got up, slowly approached Thirteen, who was waiting eagerly.

She gave her a tiny, chaste peck on the lips.

"Bzzzzz," House said. "Insufficient."

He turned to Kutner: "How does the Indian judge rule?"

"Not a real kiss," Kutner said.

"And the Jewish judges?"

"Not a real kiss," Wilson and Taub said, in unison.

"Fine," Cuddy said and knelt in front of Thirteen, and started to give her a longer kiss. Of course, Thirteen took control of the situation and grabbed Cuddy's face and began to kiss her passionately. Cuddy resisted at first, but then succumbed, even slipped a bit of her tongue in Thirteen's mouth.

House watched them, his mouth hanging open.

"Anyone else need a bathroom break?" he said, only half joking.

"Satisfied?" Cuddy said, sitting back down on her pillow.

"Not even close," House said. Then he handed her the bottle. "Alright Cuddles. You're up."

Cuddy spun the bottle. It landed on Wilson.

"Truth or dare Wilson?" she said provocatively. She was getting into the game, which House found adorable.

"Truth," Wilson said, nervously.

"When did you lose your virginity and with whom?"

"Lame question," House said. "But answer it Wilson."

"I was 16," Wilson said.

"Liar!" House said. "You were probably 35."

"No, I was 16. I was at a camp for the gifted and talented. Her name was Rhoda Rosenberg. She played the oboe. And she was _very_ gifted and talented, if you know what I mean." Then he smiled: "Rhoda, wherever you are, you made me the man I am today."

"Job poorly done, Rhoda," House said.

"I'm up!" Wilson said, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

He spun the bottle and it landed on Cameron.

"Truth or dare, Cameron?"

Cameron glanced over at House.

"Dare," she said.

"Yes!" Wilson joked, pumping his fists.

"I dare you to make out with Amber," he said, looking proud of himself.

"Why do men always go for the lesbian kiss?" Amber asked.

House and Wilson looked at each other and shrugged.

Cameron got up and kissed Amber. Unlike Cuddy, who had been genuinely uncertain and then genuinely succumbed, these two were putting on the kind of show that you often saw in bars across America: The straight girls pretending to be into each other to turn the men on. It worked, for the most part, but not on House. He was still thinking about Cuddy's kiss with Thirteen.

When Amber and Cameron stopped kissing, all the men applauded raucously—and Amber did a little curtsy.

Cameron looked over at House, noticed his indifference. She frowned.

Cameron spun the bottle. Much to her delight, it landed on House.

"Truth or dare, House?" she said.

"Truth," he said.

Crap.

"Assuming you've fantasized about every woman in this room. . ." she started.

"That would be correct," House said, matter-of-factly.

"Which one of us have you fantasized about the most?"

"The answer's obvious, right?" House said.

Cameron _thought_ she knew the answer, just needed to hear it to confirm.

"Humor us," she said.

House looked around the room.

He stopped at Amber: "Hot, but too tall," he said.

"How will I live with the disappointment?" Amber said.

"I love how tall you are, honey," Wilson said.

Amber smiled at him beatifically.

Then House looked at Thirteen, "Also hot. But too skinny."

"I'll start eating carbs immediately," Thirteen cracked.

He turned to Cameron. "Beautiful . . . but too nice."

Cameron's face fell.

"I. . .I. . ." she started, but didn't know what else to say.

Then he gestured to Cuddy. Looked her up and down lasciviously. "Now that, boys and girls, is just right."

Cuddy tried to suppress a smile, as Cameron tried not to burst into tears. (In her mind she was making a calculation: Was it better to be called beautiful or hot? Amber and Thirteen had lost to Cuddy, too. But _they_ had been called hot. She decided that when you wanted a man sexually, it was better to be hot. )

Chase frowned at her. It was like he was reading her mind. She looked down.

"Me again," House said. He spun the bottle ferociously—it took several minutes before it finally slowed down and landed on. . .Taub.

"Hoo-ray!" Taub said, jokingly.

"Taub. . . truth or dare?"

"Both prospects are equally terrifying but I'll take a dare."

"I dare you to kiss. . . Robert Chase."

"No way!" Taub and Chase said, in unison.

"It was fine when it was straight women kissing," Amber said, quickly.

"That's different," Taub said. "We're . . . dudes."

"Come on Taub. Chase is way prettier than any woman you've ever kissed," House said.

"On behalf of my wife, I object to that." Then he looked at Chase. "Although it's not completely inaccurate."

"Let's just get this over with," Chase said.

Their eyes shut tightly, they gave each other a close-mouthed kiss, both holding their breath.

"Alright I've seen enough," House said.

"That blew," Amber said.

"Not. Hot," Thirteen agreed.

"Let us never discuss it again," Taub said.

He spun the bottle and it landed on Cuddy.

"Truth or dare, Dr. Cuddy?

"After that display, I'll go with truth."

"Which of the men in this room are _you_ most attracted to?"

Both Wilson and House looked at her, somewhat expectantly.

Cuddy bit her lip.

"I'll pick the guy who picked me," she said quietly. Then pointed shyly at House. "Him."

"Excellent choice," House said, with a cocky grin.

"Get a room, you two," Kutner cracked.

Cuddy took the bottle, spun it. It landed on House.

"Truth or dare, House?"

He squinted at her.

"Dare."

"I dare you hand in your budget report," she said. Then she laughed. "Just kidding. I dare you to answer the question we've all always wondered: Boxers or briefs?"

"Boxer briefs," House said. "Next!"

"No!" Cuddy objected. "This was a dare, not a truth. We need to see!"

"You're asking a man with a hole in his leg to drop trou?"

Cuddy suddenly felt her face go red.

"Don't be so sensitive," House said. And he unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants, just low enough so that everyone could see his black boxer briefs, but not his scar.

All the women in the room stared brazenly.

"Congratulations to the next woman who has sex with you," Thirteen said, dryly.

That line even managed to embarrass House, who pulled up his pants hastily.

House spun the bottle. It landed in between Cuddy and Cameron.

"I think that's me," Cameron said, hopefully.

"I'm pretty sure it's closer to Cuddy," House said. He turned to Kutner.

"Head judge's ruling?"

Kutner got down low, stared intently at the bottle, like he was a scientist tackling an important research project.

"I do believe the bottle is closer to Dr. Cuddy."

House grinned.

"Truth or dare, Cuddy?"

"Dare," she said.

"Your underwear. Let's go. I showed you mine, you show me yours."

Cuddy laughed. She was drunk but not drunk enough that she was going to strip down to her civvies in front of her employees.

"I'm not getting undressed in front everyone."

"Okay," House said. "A private viewing then. . .in there."

And he jerked his thumb toward the closet that they could see through the door of Thirteen's bedroom.

"Ahhh, 7 minutes in heaven," Taub said, dreamily. "Another classic game from my youth."

"Is that even allowed?" Cuddy said.

"Commish?" House said to Thirteen.

"You may use my closet for the completion of this dare," Thirteen said, in a mock grave voice. "But your time alone is not to exceed seven minutes. The clock starts. . .now."

House popped up excitedly and Cuddy, rolling her eyes a bit, followed him.

The closet was just big enough for them to both stand in it comfortably without touching. But it was pretty dark. The only light came through a small crack in the door.

"What are we supposed to do for 7 minutes?" Cuddy whispered.

"You're supposed to show me your underpants," House whispered back.

"I'm doing no such thing!"

"It's how the game goes. You can't break the rules of the game!" House said. "Besides, it's dark in here. I'll barely be able to see anything."

Cuddy looked at him.

"Fine," she said. "Look but don't touch."

Much to his delight, she unsnapped her jeans and slid her pants down. She was wearing a pair of lace thong underpants. House couldn't quite make the color. White or maybe. . . pink? The tiny swath of fabric was all that stood between him and Cuddy's honeypot. He had a sudden urge to rip them off with his teeth.

"Now turn around," he said, hoarsely.

She turned around. There was just enough light in the room so that he could see the two voluptuous moons of her gorgeous ass. This time, he couldn't help himself. He reached out and caressed her.

"Hey, no touching!" Cuddy snapped, turning back around.

"I swear. I had no control over my hands," he said, holding up his hands in mock protest. "They had a mind of their own."

"Yeah, I'll bet they did."

She pulled up her pants.

Then she noticed the giant bulge in his jeans.

"You going to be alright there, pal?" she said, with a grin.

"I'll be fine. And feel free to both look _and_ touch," he said.

"Dream on," she said.

"Oh Dr. Cuddy, you tease."

"Just playin' the game!" she said. And she opened the door to the closet.

She walked back to the living room. Sat down.

"Where's House?" Cameron said.

"He's . . .straightening some things out in the closet," Cuddy said, with a chuckle.

A minute later, House came out, sat down next to Cuddy.

"I color coordinated your scarves," he said to Thirteen, as everyone gaped at him, dying of curiosity as to what had transpired in the closet. Then, he said, breezily, to the group: "Where were we?"

"It's Dr. Cuddy's turn," Kutner said.

"Right," Cuddy said. She spun the bottle. It landed on Kutner.

"Kutner: Truth or dare?"

"Dare! And I'll kiss anyone with a vagina!"

"Get ready, Wilson," House said.

Cuddy smiled, grabbed a hot pepper that was a garnish to the guacamole dip.

"I dare you to eat this hot pepper," she said.

"Again," House said. "_Lame_."

"I'm Indian," Kutner said. "This pepper is like a piece of candy to me."

"You were raised by a nice Jewish couple in the suburbs," Taub said.

Kutner shrugged. He put the pepper in his mouth. Started to chew. At first, it wasn't that bad but then his face turned red, tears began forming in his eyes, and sweat began pouring down his forehead. He finally managed swallowed it, then ran straight into the kitchen.

"Water!" he screamed.

"Milk would be a better idea," House said.

Kutner took the half gallon of milk out of the refrigerator and guzzled it straight from the carton. It poured down his chin.

"Dr. Cuddy you're an evil woman," he said.

"I had no idea it would be that hot," she protested.

Kutner wiped his face, sat back down.

"Gimme a minute," he said, catching his breath.

Finally, he spun the bottle. It landed on House.

"Me again? Does the room have a tilt?" House said, looking down at the floor.

"Truth or dare, House?"

"Truth."

Kutner squinted at him.

"Have you and Dr. Cuddy ever gotten it on? And I don't mean whatever just happened in Thirteen's closet."

House eyed Cuddy, who looked back at him anxiously. She was sending out telepathic messages: _No, no, no, no, no. . ._

"Why does everyone think we've had sex?" he said. "As I recently told Thirteen, I have not had sexual relations with that woman."

"Thank you, Bill Clinton," Wilson chuckled.

House spun the bottle. This time it did land on Cameron.

She bowed her head, smiled in anticipation.

"Truth or dare, Cameron."

"Dare," she said, batting her eyelashes at him.

"I dare you to say something mean about someone in this room."

"Laaaame," Cuddy said, taking another gulp of her drink.

"Not lame. Brilliant. Cameron is incapable of being mean."

Cameron felt her neck turn red. It was clear that House had zero interest in her as a woman. Zero.

"You're an ass," she said to House.

House shrugged.

"Not quite what I had in mind, but I'll accept that. Spin."

Still sulking a bit, she spun the bottle.

It landed on House.

"Is this one of those trick bottles?" House said.

"Truth or dare House," Cameron said, testily.

"The ass would prefer a dare."

"Kiss me," she said, her eyes flashing.

Chase looked at her in disbelief.

"You pocketing any secret hypodermic needles?" House said.

He stood up, took her hand, and gently kissed it.

"My lady," he said, bowing a bit.

Then he sat back down.

"That's not what I. . ."

"You never specified where," House said.

"Thank you, House," Chase said, still glaring at Cameron.

House took the bottle, flipped it high in the air and caught it behind his back.

Then he put on the table and spun it hard.

It landed on Cuddy.

"I've got the Midas touch," he said. "Cuddy, truth or dare?"

"Dare," she said. "Oh shit! I mean truth! Truth!"

"Too late. Rules say, we must go with your initial response. I would like 7 more minutes in heaven please."

"Technically you were just in there for 5 minutes last time, so you have 9 minutes left," Kutner said.

Everyone looked at him.

"Hey, I take my role as the head of the rules committee seriously," he said with a shrug.

"After you," House said. And he winked at the room.

Once they were alone in the dark, Cuddy said. "Thank you for not telling everyone about Michigan. I know how much you're a stickler for the rules of the game."

"Truth or dare isn't about the truth . . . It's about the truths you're willing to reveal. And the dares you're willing to take."

"So now what?" Cuddy said.

"You already showed me your thong. So now you show me your bra," House said, confidently.

"I will not!"

"C'mon Cuddy. If you didn't want to spend more time with me in the closet, you wouldn't have said dare."

"It was a slip of the tongue! I meant truth."

He took a step toward her.

"Take off your sweater," he said.

Even though they were both quite drunk and even though they had more or less openly admitted (at last) their mutual attraction to each other, he still wasn't entirely sure how she would react.

So he was relieved (and more than a little excited) when she began to slowly pull her sweater over her head.

It was a white push up bra. It nearly glowed in the dark closet.

Her cleavage was spectacular.

He wanted to bury his face between her breasts.

Instead, he said, evenly, like a man who expected to get what he asked for: "Now take off your bra."

"I already did the dare," she said.

"This isn't part of the game," House breathed. "This is me asking you—as a man."

It was so dark and intimate in the closet, they could almost forget that a party was waiting for them just a few feet away.

Cuddy looked at him. She gulped a bit. Then she unhooked her bra strap and let the bra fall to the floor.

He could make out contours of her breasts, just the tiniest shadow of her nipples in the dark. It wasn't enough.

He pulled a lighter out of his pocket—ignited it to get a better look.

Half naked Lisa Cuddy illuminated by his lighter was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. The intensity of his own desire overwhelmed him a bit. It felt dangerous.

"I don't think I want a flame that close to my breasts," she cracked.

"I would never burn anything so precious," he said, not really joking.

In the dark, she could see the lust in his eyes, which, of course, only fueled her own lust.

"Okay," she said. "This time you can look _and_ touch."

He quickly shut the lighter, stepped toward her, began to caress her breasts, slowly, reverentially—cupping their softness and weight—then started to finger her nipples with his thumbs. Feeling her nipples grown hard under his touch was too much for him.

"Oh my God," he said.

On instinct, he dove for her chest with his mouth.

Much to his dismay, she took a step back.

"We've already taken this too far," she said. And she hastily put on her bra and sweater.

_Shit, shit, shit_.

This time, she waited for his hard-on to subside before they both walked back out to the party together.

But the group had disbanded while they were in the closet.

Chase and Cameron were having an intense discussion in the corner, with Chase doing most of the talking. He looked very upset.

Taub and Kutner had left.

Thirteen was already beginning to clean up.

"I guess the party's over," Cuddy said.

"I thought I was going to have to put a cot in there," Thirteen said, with a chuckle.

"Sorry about that," House said.

"No problem. I think we established tonight that Dr. Cuddy may be in the closet. . .but only if you're in there with her."

"I tried to tell you," House said.

"Worth a shot," Thirteen said, with a shrug.

"I have no idea what you guys are talking about," Cuddy said.

"Private joke," they said in unison.

END OF PART 1


	2. Chapter 2

**So here's part II. Alas, it' s not as funny or imaginative as the first part and will remind faithful readers of several other of my fics (especially my virgin fan fic: Two Bottles, Four Glasses, One Headache) (WTF was up with that title, anyway?). But hey, there's a little smut! So go me! – atd **

**p.s. Another HUGE thanks to everyone who leaves comments. For better or worse, I tend to judge the "success" of a fic by the number of comments I get. So they mean more to me than I can express. Group hug, you guys!**

Cuddy had to admit that she was more than slightly disappointed.

After things had gotten so heated with House, she expected him to make a move on her the minute they left the party, maybe even beg for a quickie in the back seat of her car.

Instead, he had merely gotten on his bike, nodded at her, and zoomed off.

Now she drove home slowly—gripping the steering wheel tightly, with two hands, as she did on those rare occasions when she drank and drove—and tried to rationalize his departure.

Of course, he was right. What happened in that closet may've been sexy, and it may've crossed an invisible line, but it wasn't a point of no return. So what if they'd gotten a little handsy? So what if she'd showed him a little skin? It had been late and dark and they were both pretty drunk. They could move on from that, rationalize it. Anything more, however, would be a game changer.

Frustrating as it was, she knew that House was showing some rare maturity by going home. They worked together, flirted all the time, had a history. Sex would make things even more complicated than they already were.

She was literally having this thought when she pulled up to her house and saw House's bike parked against the curb. She tried—unsuccessfully—to suppress a smile.

He was sitting on her front stoop, casually, as though he had been invited.

"Jesus woman," he said. "What took you so long? Did you _push_ your car home?"

"You're pretty sure of yourself, aren't you?" she said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Of course," he said. "Unless I read the part where you disrobed in front of me—twice—and told me to fondle your breasts incorrectly. . . If so, I can't imagine how you behave when you _do_ want to have sex with someone."

"Cute," she said.

"I'll go, if that's what you want," he said, pretending to head back to his bike.

"Get inside," she said, grabbing the sleeve to his jacket.

They were both so horny and hot for each other, they didn't even bother with preambles. No drink was offered, there was no small talk. Instead, they began kissing, ardently, and clothing was shed, piece by piece, in the hall, as if they were leaving clues for a lost and weary traveler to find his way to the bedroom.

House seemed intent on finishing everything he had started in the closet. Within seconds, he was licking and sucking on her breasts and caressing her ass. Cuddy sighed, leaned back. Everything he was doing felt so. . .good.

His hands migrated slowly down her stomach, to her hips, and then to her inner thighs. They lingered, tantalizingly, on her thighs before he reached between her legs and felt inside her.

"Oh fuck," he said, feeling how wet she was.

"House," she moaned, squirming a bit.

"Shhhhh," he said.

He spread her legs with his knees, then crawled between them. She felt his hot breath against her skin. It made her shiver with anticipation.

"Tell me what feels good," he whispered and started to lap at her.

"Oh God, yes. . ." she said.

His tongue began to swirl around her clit.

"Yes. . ." she said, shutting her eyes. "Yes. . .yes. . ."

Now his tongue was getting faster, more probing.

"Jjhhsskmmmmmm. . ."

She had lost the power of speech. She began to buck a bit underneath him.

Finally, just when it felt like she was about to explode, he deftly finished her off by adding a couple of fingers to the mix.

"YES!" she screamed when she came. It was so loud she feared she had awakened the neighbors. She sighed, convulsed one more time—an aftershock of sorts—then burst into laughter.

"Holy shit," she said, mussing her own hair.

"You like?" he said, sliding up her torso, kissing her neck and mouth.

"I _love_," she said.

And she knelt before him and pulled off his black boxer briefs, eager to return the favor.

####

They had sex three times that night—the last time, in the shower, which was risky, in light of House's infarction, but had just sort of . . happened.

It was 4 a.m.

Cuddy walked him to the door.

Here was the funny thing about sex: Less than 30 minutes earlier, her soapy legs had been wrapped around him, as he fucked her against a shower wall. Now they both felt slightly shy.

"That was . . ." she started.

"Yeah. . . ." House said. "It was."

They smiled.

"See you on Monday?" Cuddy asked, as if that was a real question.

"Yup," House said. He backed out of the door, looking at her, until he finally turned around and headed toward his bike.

####

Late Monday morning, House joined his team for the differential.

"You're looking awfully . . . refreshed this morning," Taub said, with a smirk. "I saw Dr. Cuddy earlier and she was looking similarly. . .refreshed."

"And you look 10 percent more gay," House countered.

"Okay boys, break it up," Thirteen said, holding out her hands, as if to separate them. "Let us all agree, what happened at Remy's party _stays_ at Remy's party."

"What happened at your party?" Foreman said, feeling left out.

"Who's Remy?" Kutner said.

#####

Later, House joined Wilson for lunch.

"So. . .tell me everything," Wilson said, rubbing his hands together. "And spare no details."

"Foreman thinks it's viral; Thirteen thinks it's a cancer syndrome; Kutner thinks . . ."

"Not about your case, about Cuddy!" Wilson said.

"Oh, _that_. . ." House said, with a tiny smile.

"What happened between you and Cuddy?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Liar! Cuddy could've gotten pregnant from all the eye sex you two were having. Don't tell me you didn't go home with her."

"I didn't," House said. (Saved by the subtleties of the English language. He hadn't technically gone home _with_ her.)

"Just for the record I don't believe you," Wilson said.

House shrugged.

"And just for the record, I don't care."

"You're an ass," Wilson said, pouting. "We always promised each other that if either of us made it to the promised land—namely Cuddy's bedroom—we would share everything."

"I don't remember ever making a promise like that," House said.

"It was implied," Wilson said, glumly taking a bite of his turkey sandwich.

"I thought that you and Cutthroat Bitch were in _loooove_," House said. "That you like big bitches and you cannot lie."

"We are," Wilson sniffed. "That doesn't mean I'm dead."

####

A few nights later, Cuddy left work on the late side—almost 8 p.m.

When she got into the garage, House was leaning against her car, waiting for her.

"What are you still doing here?" she said, knowingly.

"Just hanging out in the garage, leaning against your car, as one does."

She snorted.

"You want to come home with me," she said, twirling a lock of her hair flirtatiously.

"Yes, please," he said with an irresistible smile.

He was wearing that pink shirt she loved—and twirling his cane like a baton in that languorous, cocky way of his. She had promised herself their night of passion would be an isolated incident—a one time indiscretion. But who was she trying to kid?

She took a look around the garage: It was empty, for now. Then she positioned herself between his legs.

"What's in it for me?" she said, sexily.

He put his arms around her.

"Oh, I have plans for you," he said. "Dirty, dirty plans."

"Likewise," she said, with a bit of a leer.

"Thank God," he said—and grabbed her ass.

She got on her tip toes and stuck her tongue in his mouth, and suddenly House was digging into her skirt and they were both grinding against each other and starting to grope and pant, and for a second, it seemed like they wouldn't make it back to her place at all—that they'd have to have very ill-advised and very risky sex right there in the backseat of her car—when they heard the sound of footsteps.

They hastily disentangled, like teenagers getting caught behind the bleachers.

Of course. Cameron.

"I'm sorry," she said, mortified. "Excuse me."

And she kept walking to her own car, which was a few spots away.

"Be right back," House said to Cuddy.

He followed Cameron to her car.

"What you just saw. . ." House started, sternly.

"I didn't see anything!" Cameron said. Her face was bright red.

"No one knows about it, okay?"

"I swear I didn't see anything," she said, rifling frantically through her bag for her keys. She finally found them. "Can I just go home now?" she said.

He nodded at her wordlessly. She got in her car and took off. Her brakes squealed as she left.

He limped back over to Cuddy.

"So that happened," he said.

"That was . . .bad. We really need to get a hold of ourselves," she said.

"Exactly what I had in mind," he said, with a grin.

#####

So they started having sex. Not every night, but a lot of nights—several times a week.

One night, they had sex on the rug in front of her fireplace.

Another night, they had sex on—and under—her kitchen table. One night, she came to the door wearing a lab coat. When she took it off, she had nothing on underneath but a stethoscope and a thong. "Wanna play doctor?" she had trilled.

House never stayed the night. But he never left right away, either. After the fireplace sex, they'd wrapped themselves in the rug and shared a bottle of wine.

After kitchen table sex, House had eyed her: "Hungry?" he said. "Famished," she had replied. And they had cooked spaghetti carbonara together.

After stethoscope sex, House asked if he could take the lab coat home with him—for lonely nights, he had cracked. "You can always call me when you get lonely," she had said—and for a minute, they'd made meaningful eye contact, and then looked away.

They didn't really have a word for what they were—not boyfriend and girlfriend, precisely, but certainly more than "fuck buddies." They were both determined to keep it casual. (And quiet—save for Cameron, no one at the hospital knew). But the line was getting increasingly blurry.

A few weeks after he and Cuddy had started sleeping together, House found himself alone in his apartment, thinking about her. Of course, he was obsessing about sex. Cuddy was a turn-on to him in every possible way—quite literally, the hottest creature he'd ever slept with.

But he was also thinking of other things: About her laugh, for one thing, and how girlish and sexy it was. He was thinking about how comfortable it had felt tucked under that rug with her, naked and drinking wine. House didn't relax very often—it was nearly impossible for him to turn off his giant, restless brain. But after sex with Cuddy, wrapped in that rug—well, that was as close to content he had felt in years.

He had just seen her the previous night, but he thought maybe he would call her anyway. Was that really so bad? ("You can always call me when you get lonely," she had said). He didn't want to seem needy. But, fuck it, he was beginning to think that maybe he really _did _need her.

He picked up the phone and was just starting to dial when there was a knock at the door.

He grinned, hopped up.

"I knew you couldn't stay away," he said cheerfully, swinging the door open.

It was a beautiful brunette alright—but not the one he had been expecting.

His mouth dropped open.

"Stacy," he said.

"Surprise!" she said, sheepishly.

"What are you doing here?" He was still in shock.

"Don't I at least get a hug hello?"

He hugged her stiffly, ushered her in.

"You look good, Greg," she said, taking him in.

"So do you," he said.

A tall drink of water: That was the phrase that always came to mind when Stacy was in the room.

"Thanks."

"And I repeat," he said, cautiously. "What are you doing here?"

"Mark and I broke up. . ."

He looked down at the floor, shoved his hands in his pockets.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"And I have found myself thinking more and more of . . . you."

"Me?"

"Yeah you, dummy."

"I think we need to some alcohol for this."

He grabbed a bottle of wine, opened it, and poured two glasses. Then he sat beside her on the sofa.

"I was very angry at you after I left Princeton Plainsboro," Stacy admitted.

"Yeah, kinda picked up on that."

"But I had a revelation of sorts. That you, in your own twisted, fucked up, Gregory House sort of way, did something nice. Gallant even."

"I think you're confusing me with some other ex boyfriend of yours."

"You didn't want to come between Mark and me. You felt he could make me happier than you could. So you let me go."

House scratched his head.

"I suppose that's true," he admitted.

"Now there is no Mark," she said, rolling the wine on her tongue. "There's just me. . .and you."

And she leaned toward him on the couch and went to kiss him.

He surprised both of them by backing away.

Stacy looked positively shocked.

"Oh my God," she said. "That was so presumptuous of me. You're seeing someone, aren't you?"

He stopped, thought about that for a second.

"Not quite," he said.

"You're not interested in me anymore," she said.

He had fantasized about this sort of thing on more than one occasion: Stacy coming to his door, begging him to take her back. Mark completely out of the picture. And now here she was: Beautiful, elegant, brilliant Stacy—the only woman he'd ever been able to sustain a long term relationship with. The only woman he had ever truly loved.

It was absurd to reject her advances because of a fling with Lisa Cuddy, no matter how red hot.

"I'm interested," he said. And he pulled her toward him.

#####

Four days later, he lingered in Cuddy's office after work.

She looked up from her paperwork.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up," she said, confidently.

"We need to talk," he said, and closed the door behind him.

"Talk, huh?" she teased. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

Then she took note of his face: Dead serious.

"What's up?" she said, furrowing her brow.

"Stacy Warner came to my apartment the other night," he started.

She gasped the tiniest bit.

"And?"

"And she and Mark split up."

"Oh," Cuddy said. She suddenly knew what was coming. She felt vaguely ill.

"She wants to try again. . .with me."

She looked at him, speechless.

"So I've, uh, been . . .seeing her, these past few days," he said. "We're getting back together."

"Oh," Cuddy said. She wanted to crawl under her desk.

"I just want to say, Cuddy, that. . .what you and I had . . . it meant . . . it was . . ."

"Forget it," Cuddy said, abruptly. "It was what it was. We had fun."

House looked at her.

"Right," he said, biting his lip. "Fun."

"I'm happy for you, House. Really I am. Stacy is a wonderful woman."

_So are you_, he thought, but didn't say.

"Cuddy, I really am sorry . ."

"There's nothing to apologize for," she said, in a voice so cold and indifferent, it cut through him like a knife. "Get out of here. I have work to do."

He stood up, stiffly.

"Thanks," he said, although he wasn't quite sure what he was thanking her for.

He left.

He came back the next day, lingered awkwardly until she looked up from her work.

"What is it?" she said. No thaw.

"I brought you this." And he dropped a file on her desk.

His budget report.

#####

"So how's it going with the divine Ms. Warner?" Wilson said, happily, a few weeks later over lunch.

"Fine," House said.

"Fine? The love of your life comes crawling back to you and all you can muster is . . ._fine_?"

"We're doing well. Taking it slow."

"Sleeping together?"

"Yeah, of course. Not _that_ slow."

"So you're upset because you wish it was going . . . faster?"

"Not exactly."

"You're not that into her anymore?" Wilson said, incredulously.

"I never said that," House said.

"Okay, I'm officially out of ideas."

"Everything's fine," House said, but it wasn't particularly convincing because he grimaced a bit and rubbed his leg.

"Your _leg_ is bothering you?"

"It does that all the time," House said. "It's the chronic part of _chronic pain_."

"I haven't seen you rubbing your leg like that since, well, since Stacy left you. What's going on, House?"

"I said it was nothing," House snapped. "Don't make a federal case out of it."

######

Several days later, Stacy joined him in the cafeteria for lunch. They were, not unexpectedly, the source of much curiosity and speculation among the hospital staff, who craned their necks and tried to eavesdrop. Some remembered Stacy from her stint as lead counsel, maybe even knew a bit of her history with House. Newcomers couldn't believe that the cranky and unapproachable Dr. House had a girlfriend.

As for Cameron, she was strangely . . . relieved. She had managed to reconcile House's feelings for Stacy. Stacy was the love of his life. He was hung up on her. That was why he had never returned her affections.

But seeing him all over Dr. Cuddy in the garage that night threw her whole theory out of whack. God, could that night have been any more mortifying? Especially when House came over to _scold_ her for what she had seen. Like it was her fault! Maybe if he'd had a little control over himself she wouldn't have seen anything! She cringed involuntarily, as she always did when she remembered that night. (She'd been painstakingly avoiding Dr. Cuddy and House in the hallway ever since.)

But now, seeing House with Stacy, she felt that order was restored in the universe. That was just lust she had witnessed, this was love.

Cuddy also saw Stacy and House. When she entered the cafeteria and noticed them, her first thought was to flee. Then she pulled herself together, walked up to their table.

House stood when she approached. Stacy looked amused by this gentlemanly act.

"Stacy," Cuddy said. "It's so good to see you. I heard you were back in town. I've been meaning to call."

"I'm the one who should've called you," Stacy said. "I've been. . . busy." And she gave a knowing look to House, who looked down.

"We should definitely try to catch up," Cuddy said, starting her escape. "Enjoy your lunch, you two."

"Why don't you join us?" Stacy said, quickly.

Cuddy and House exchanged a mortified look.

"No, I. . . was just going to grab a sandwich and take it back to my office," Cuddy said. "I'm positively buried under paperwork."

"Ha, been there," Stacy said. "But that catching up thing? Let's really do it."

"Absolutely," Cuddy said. She nodded at House and left.

"I like her so much," Stacy said, innocently, as Cuddy walked away. "And she's such a knockout. I wonder why she doesn't have a boyfriend?"

######

A few nights later, at about 2 am, Cuddy was awakened by a phone call: House.

"This better be an emergency," she said.

"Hi," he said.

She could hear the sound of a bar. The song "Closing Time"—every bar's cue that it was time to go home—was playing in the background.

"What do you want House?"

"Can I come over?"

"Are you out of your mind?"

"I miss you. I miss _being _with you."

"Are you still seeing Stacy?" Cuddy said, sharply.

"She has nothing to do with this," he slurred.

"I'm not going to sleep with you when you're seeing another woman," Cuddy said.

"Why not?" he whined. "Just because I'm dating Stacy doesn't mean I can't have sex with you."

"Actually it does."

"But we're so good together. You know we're good together." Then he laughed, like he had just thought of something truly amusing. "I _dare_ you to fuck me!"

"Screw you," she said, and hung up.

#####

Over Moroccan stew a few nights later, House finally mustered the nerve to end things with Stacy.

"The thing is," he said. "Remember when you asked me if I was seeing somebody? I lied. I kind of was."

"Cuddy," Stacy said. (She hadn't known until this exact moment, but now it suddenly seemed obvious.)

House averted his eyes.

"Yeah," he said.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she said.

"I thought it was casual," House admitted. "But it's. . .not."

"It's. . .as in _present tense_?" Stacy said.

"No! I haven't been with Cuddy since I've been with you!" House protested. (He neglected to add: Because Cuddy shut me down the other night.)

"But you want to be?"

He managed to swallow a bite of couscous.

"I'm sorry."

Stacy put her head in her hands.

"No, I'm sorry. This was my fault. I thought I could swoop back in your life and we could pick things right up where we left off. But real life doesn't work that way, does it?"

"I guess not," House said.

"I think, in a way, we were both playing a role—hoping that the real feelings would kick in eventually."

"You know I'll always care about you."

"And I'll always care about you. Not so much in this moment, " she added with an ironic chuckle. "But I'll work on that."

"More wine?" House said.

Stacy shrugged.

"Why the hell not?" she said.

#####

The next day, House was in Cuddy's office with a patient file.

"I need permission to do a liver biopsy," he said, handing her the file.

She looked at the file, frowned.

"A liver biopsy is the protocol here. Why are you asking my permission?"

"Just dotting my ts and crossing my i's," he said. "Er, reverse that."

"What, are you going to do next? Ask my permission to go the bathroom?"

"Sounds like fun," he said, cocking an eyebrow. An ill-advised joke.

She glared at him.

"Geez, I'm just kidding." Then, hesitating, he said: "I thought you might like to know that Stacy and I broke up."

"Really," she said, dryly.

"Yeah. . .We just couldn't reignite that old spark, I guess. So we, uh, parted ways."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said, still cold.

"Anyway, I thought you might want to know that."

"It really doesn't concern me."

He looked at her.

"No," he said. "I suppose it doesn't."

####

"Gotta second, boss?"

It was Thirteen, standing in his office.

"What's up?"

"Do you have plans Friday night?"

"A smart man never answers that question without knowing why it's being asked. But if it's lesbian strip bingo, count me in."

"Foreman has been grousing about missing my party. So we're going to recreate it—minus the Truth or Dare, needless to say—at Sullivan's."

"Sorry," House said. "Big plans Friday night. _Huge_."

"Figured you'd say that," she chuckled. "Foreman's going to take it personally, you know."

"Foreman doesn't take anything personally," House said.

"Just thought I'd ask. . ." Thirteen said with a shrug, starting to leave.

"Wait," House said, as something dawned on him. "Is Cuddy going to be there?"

Thirteen narrowed her eyes.

"I haven't asked her yet. But I was planning on it."

"Good. Do that. And if she asks, make sure she thinks I'm not coming."

"_Are _you coming?"

"It's possible that my enormous plans may've fallen through."

#######

By the time House got to Sullivan's, everyone from the party was already there, including Cuddy, who was standing in the corner talking to Wilson and Amber.

House marched right up to them.

"I didn't know you were coming tonight!" Wilson said, slapping House on the shoulder.

"Oh joy," said Amber.

Cuddy looked trapped.

"Hey Wilson, didn't you have that important thing you needed to do—over there," House said, pointing vaguely to the other side of the bar.

"What thing?" Amber said. "Over where?"

House gave Wilson a meaningful look.

"Oh yeah," Wilson said quickly. "That important thing. Over there. I forgot." And he grabbed Amber's arm and ushered her away.

"Olivier he ain't," House said, smiling.

Cuddy turned away from House, took a sip of her martini.

"So now you're not speaking to me? Real mature, Cuddy."

"Thirteen told me you weren't coming tonight."

"I had a change of plans."

"Yeah, right," Cuddy said.

"Why are you so pissed at me?"

"The fact that you have to ask pretty much answers your own question."

"Because of Stacy?"

"Yes, because of Stacy. And because of your disgusting, drunken . . . proposition."

"Not my finest moment," he admitted.

"I'd like you to leave me alone now," she said.

"I told you, Stacy and I ended things."

"The fact that you _started _things is why I'm upset."

"That's not fair," House countered.

"Not fair?"

He sighed.

"It's not like you and I were in an exclusive relationship."

"I never said we were."

"It wasn't even a relationship at all. It was . . . "

She folded her arms, looked at him.

"It was what, House?"

"Incredibly hot, for one thing," he said.

He immediately knew this was the wrong answer, because her lip began to tremble.

"Fuck you," she said, and grabbed her handbag and stormed out of the bar.

All eyes watched her leave, including Cameron, who wasn't pleased with this development. Why did everything between House and Cuddy always have to be so. . .passionate?

House felt his neck grow red. He had a real dilemma. If he ran after Cuddy, it would be a show of weakness, a sign that he cared. If he let her go, he may never get a shot with her again.

Fuck it.

"Cuddy!" he yelled, limping quickly out the door.

He managed to get to her car just as she was putting her key in the lock.

"I'm sorry. That's not what I meant to say."

"Go away, House."

He grabbed her wrist tightly.

"You asked me the other day why I broke up with Stacy. I broke up with Stacy because I couldn't stop thinking about . . .you."

She had been struggling, ever so slightly, under his grip. Now she relaxed a bit.

"You couldn't?" she said.

"No. I don't know what we had together. But it was more than sex. I have. . .feelings for you."

"You do?"

"What about you? You act like this is all on me. You never once told me how you felt."

"Yes I did," she said. "I told you I'd be there for you if you ever got lonely."

He smiled, gently.

"You did say that, didn't you?"

He blinked at her.

"I'm lonely," he said.

"You're at a party at a bar," she cracked.

"But I'm very very lonely," he whispered in her ear, putting his arms around her.

She softened.

"Me too," she said.

He kissed her neck, then her mouth. Then, for good measure, he kissed her again on the mouth, with just enough tongue to get them both a little worked up.

"Wanna get out of here?" he breathed.

"We should probably go back inside for a bit, just so as not to raise suspicion," Cuddy said.

"Too late," House said.

He gestured to the window, where the entire gang was spying on them. When they were spotted, they all turned away quickly, practically whistling with feigned indifference.

Cuddy buried her face in House's chest.

"Oh God," she said.

"Busted," House said.

"Well, on the bright side," Cuddy laughed. "I guess they don't think I'm boring anymore."

THE END


End file.
